


catharsis

by bucketfulloffandom



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), SWIN (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV), 星动亚洲 | Super Idol
Genre: Angst, M/M, but it resolves, is it a vent fic if it’s just about your feelings about a bunch of chinese boys, mentions of other super idol/swin boys, rated for language and drinking mention, this is.... very word vomity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 11:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16953360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucketfulloffandom/pseuds/bucketfulloffandom
Summary: In Shuchen’s mind, everyone’s accounted for.And then Xukun walks in.





	catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so... this is a weird piece.
> 
> i started it a couple days ago with no real intention of finishing it; it feels really messy and incoherent to me and it probably is but that’s because it’s largely some weird way for me to process my own feelings about everything with the swin boys and people leaving and all that. u know. hence the title lmao
> 
> but uh. yeah. it kept going and then it sort of came to an end and i figured i might as well post it since it’s,, done? yeah. 
> 
> i have a lot of feelings

It’s 12:32 AM on a Thursday night, and Shuchen is shit-faced.

Pinlin is, too, though admittedly a little less so. Gengyin, who is designated caretaker/supervisor of the night, sips water as he curls his boyfriend’s hair between his fingers. Yifan, never really one for drinking, has been nursing the same lukewarm bottle for as long as Shuchen’s hazy memory can recall.

And that’s the crew. The others who are still actually in SWIN are taking the time off of promotions to visit their families, Jingyao is busy with unspecified activities as per usual, Fangzhou has some business at his studio, and Muti is still filming his show in Korea. In Shuchen’s mind, everyone’s accounted for.

And then Xukun walks in.

Cai Xukun, with his lean figure and bleached hair, wearing clothes that are probably too expensive for this ratty bar, a hat pulled down low in an attempt to cover his face, but Shuchen can still recognize him in an instant. They all can.

Gengyin gasps quietly, which prompts a loud and slurred “huh?” from Pinlin. Yifan sets his drink back down on the table with a resounding clink. Xukun’s head whips in the direction of their table, and something like alarm flares in his eyes.

Shuchen’s head swims.

“Is that Kunkun?” Pinlin stage-whispers. Gengyin smacks him gently. “Ow, don’t hit me, asshole. Is it?”

“It is,” Yifan responds. “Jesus, what are the chances- hey! Cai Xukun!” He waves, even though Xukun has already spotted them. “Come over here!”

Xukun casts a glance around himself, then carries himself over to their table with just a few strides of his long legs. Shuchen thinks he’s a little mad that Xukun’s gotten even taller.

“Hey, guys,” Xukun says, and his voice is shaking almost imperceptibly. “Long time no see.”

Shuchen thinks he’s a little mad that Xukun puts it that way. _Long time no see_ , as if they’re acquaintances from school who ran into each other at the grocery store. _Long time no see_ , as if they hadn’t spent the better part of two years all living together.

“It really has been a while,” Gengyin pipes up. “How have you been?”

“I’m, uh, I’m doing alright! I’ve been really busy lately, with promotions and activities and all, but. You know.”

Shuchen thinks he’s a little mad that this is the first time they’re hearing about Xukun’s success directly from him. That’s what it is, he decides. Floating with his addled, drunken thoughts, he’s a little mad that Xukun could never be bothered to check in with them—with the people he’d been with for two years.

“Well, shit, sit down, don’t just stand there,” Gengyin says, scooting over in the booth to make room. Not that much space needs to be cleared; Xukun is thinner than ever before.

“How, uh. How have you guys been?” Xukun asks as he sits down gingerly. “I mean, since the lawsuit and everything…”

Pinlin winces, but before he can say anything, Yifan interjects to tell Xukun every single thing about his and Fangzhou’s endeavors with One Group, obviously leaping at the opportunity to tell someone who hasn’t already heard the spiel fifteen times. Xukun listens with a look of mild fascination.

Shuchen’s head swims.

He pours himself another drink.

  


“Huadi,” Gengyin says, chidingly and somewhat warningly, when he’s halfway through yet another bottle. “I think you’ve had enough for tonight.”

That catches Xukun’s attention, who has been entertaining Yifan’s unadulterated rambling for at least ten minutes now. His round eyes fall on Shuchen, and they burn on his skin. Xukun’s scrutinizing him, Shuchen realizes. He’s judging him, condemning him for not being as successful, for being here, wasted out of his mind in a shitty bar with no real job, for being sad and pathetic and a _failure_.

Shuchen’s blood roars in his ears.

“ _What_ ,” he hisses. Xukun draws back. “What do you _want_.”

“Nothing, I just-”

“You think you’re better than us?” Shuchen’s entire body is buzzing.

“I’m not-”

“You think you’re better than all the rest of us because _you_ got out when you did and now everyone loves you and you’re so famous and successful and we’re all still down here?”

“Shuchen,” Gengyin begins.

“Yeah, we’re all still struggling just to get fucking recognized and- and _perform_ on a _stage_ like we’ve been training to for three damn years, but why would you care?”

This time it’s Pinlin who tries to interject, but the floodgates, weakened by too much alcohol, have opened up, and the muddy waters won’t stop.

“We’ve all been together for this long, and the _moment_ you left you stopped caring!” Shuchen knows he’s yelling at this point, but he can hardly keep himself from jumping out of his seat, much less lower his voice.

Xukun’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly. Shuchen is mad—god, he’s so fucking _mad_.

“We were supposed to be a _team_ ,” he snarls, and it sounds just shy of pathetic, with how angry and upset and heartbroken he is. “We were all supposed to be a group, and stick together, through everything, and, I mean, fuck, yeah, people left, but they didn’t drop off the fucking grid. You-” He’s out of breath, he’s so _angry_. “You left us all, and now you have your own group, a whole fucking group, and you’re all thriving, and you never even thought to ask us how we’re doing!”

Gengyin speaks up again: “Shuchen, stop-”

“I don’t give a shit that you’re so popular and everyone loves you now, I don’t _care_ , that’s fine!” Shuchen’s realizing more and more as he spits it all out—the anger, the frustration, the _heartbreak_ of it all. “I’m fucking glad _someone’s_ out of all this bullshit is doing something, but you couldn’t even-” His voice is failing him. “Hell, you couldn’t even mention one single thing about us during the fucking _lawsuit_. Not a word of support, or anything.”

Xukun swallows roughly, wets his lips, then says, “I didn’t want you to think I was showing off or something-”

Shuchen’s pulse pounds. “What, showing us up on how _good_ everything is for you?”

He thinks Xukun nods, just barely. Something in him snaps.

“You want to show us how good it is for you, I’ll show you my fucking knuckles in your face-”

His chair legs screech against the floor as he stands, fists clenching. Yifan is on his feet in an instant, his hands going to Shuchen’s shoulders, murmuring, “Huadi-ge, that’s enough. Sit down, don’t do this.” Gengyin’s halfway out of his seat, body angled to cover Xukun.

Shuchen shakes Yifan off of him, and he’s so _angry_ , vision blurry with the frustration bubbling up from inside of him, and he wants so badly to just _fight_ someone for once.

And then he sees the look on Xukun’s face, and something in his stomach drops.

The strength of his anger and his frustration drain out of him in a second, the fog of his inebriation lifts, and all he’s left with is the horrible, horrible heartbreak.

Xukun looks… frail. There are dark circles under his eyes that Shuchen didn’t see before; his face bears fine, stressed lines that weren’t there last time he saw him. He’s thin, so very thin. And he looks terrified.

“I’m sorry,” Xukun mumbles. His voice is so weak, trembling.

“No, Kun,” Gengyin says, “there’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

But Xukun keeps saying it anyways, because of course he does. That’s who he is. “I’m _sorry_ ,” he repeats. There’s a sob on the tail end of it. “I really am.”

Shuchen’s head hurts, so fucking much. His chest keeps pressing inwards. He’s suffocating. “Kun, I-”

“No, _ge_ , don’t start. Let me speak.” Xukun gathers himself up, every delicate inch, breathes deep. “I’m sorry. I should have kept in touch, and I should have done more to help you guys.” His gaze darts from one face to another, never lingering too long, as if he’s afraid to look too closely. “Everything has just been so crazy, with the show, and the group, but that’s- that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have just stopped talking to you all.”

Jesus, does Shuchen feel like an idiot and a jackass. Which he is, but, well.

Xukun was absolutely spoiled living with them. Qibo fussed over him like a mother hen, Yifan and Muti ran circles around him like little brothers—hell, Pinlin, dutiful as he was, insisted on doing his laundry for him when he was tired (which, with their schedules, was always). There was always someone to fall back on, someone else to take the brunt of the managers’ wrath, someone to hide behind.

But he’s the leader of his group now. He weathered through a selection process of one hundred other boys, all by himself. Yeah, he’d been training relentlessly for the better part of two years prior, but all that was _by himself_.

Shuchen feels weariness settling deep in his bones. He’s tired, more tired than he thought he could ever be, but Xukun is too.

“Xukun, I’m so sorry,” Shuchen blurts, and the tears that come welling up and spilling over are streaming down his face before he even quite processes that they’re there. “I’m just- _fuck_ , everything fucking _sucks_ , but it’s not your fault.” There’s a gentle hand on his shoulder—Yifan, with eyes that are infinitely kind and immeasurably sad. “I think I just… were we not enough?”

The question comes out as barely more than a whisper, but they all hear it. Gengyin ducks his head into Pinlin’s shoulder with a muffled sob.

“No- _no_ , Shuchen, god,” Xukun gasps. “It was never because of you guys; I love you guys.” His shoulders—bearing the weight of too many years for his age—sag. “I just couldn’t stay there. You know why.”

Shuchen does know. Gengyin does, and Yifan, and Pinlin, who stayed anyways.

In the ensuing somber silence, Shuchen realizes abruptly that he’s still crying. The tears tracking down his face are hot and wet and _jesus_ , this is embarrassing. He rubs at his eyes, digging the heels of his palms in. All it really succeeds at is making his eyeballs hurt.

Of course, Xukun’s the first to notice. “Here.” He reaches across the table to hold out a wad of napkins. “Blow your nose. We’ll pretend we aren’t looking.”

A hoarse laugh escapes Shuchen at that. Xukun smiles cautiously back. The air that had been thick with emotion starts to thin.

“Hey, Qibo just texted me,” Gengyin announces, then squeals. “Oh my god, look at this cat!!” Glasses clatter as Yifan and Xukun both move to look at Gengyin’s phone, while Pinlin just cranes his neck up from where he’s nestled back into Gengyin’s side. Shuchen finishes dabbing the tears from his eyes.

“How has Qibo been, anyway?” Xukun asks. His expression is earnest, now, as he tilts the phone screen in his direction to get a better look.

And just like that, it’s like they’re all back to normal again. Gengyin is here, and Yifan and Pinlin, and Xukun. And sure, he hasn’t been around for a while, but that’s how it is sometimes.

Shuchen’s head doesn’t ache as much anymore.

“He’s insufferable as always,” Gengyin sighs. Xukun snorts in amusement.

“Unsurprising. Tell me more.”

With a grin that Shuchen feels warming his soul, Gengyin gladly does.

  


It’s 1:46 AM on a Thursday night when Xukun glances at his phone and shouts in surprise, jumping to his feet.

“Shit, I wasn’t supposed to be out nearly this long!” he yelps. He casts a reluctant look around the table as he shrugs his jacket on. “I gotta go, sorry guys.” He pauses, taking another glance at his phone. “Aw, shit, I’m gonna be in so much trouble.”

“Get going, then, dumbass,” Yifan says affectionately. Xukun’s smile is open.

“It was worth it staying out,” he says. “I’ll see you guys around?”

They all nod agreement. Xukun looks satisfied, maybe even relieved.

“And keep in touch,” Shuchen adds.

“Of course.”

He waves as he goes, the bell on the door tinkling softly as it swings shut behind him.

Gengyin sinks down in his seat; Pinlin’s head drops onto his shoulder with a contented sigh. Yifan giggles at something on his phone, from Fangzhou no doubt. Shuchen takes a long drink of water, runs his hands through his hair, and exhales deep.

It’s 1:49 AM on a Thursday night, and Shuchen is tired, so, so tired, but he’s not alone, and that’s all he needs.

**Author's Note:**

> is this a controversial work? somehow? idk. i’m paranoid and deathly afraid of People On The Internet™ 
> 
> pls don’t be mad at me


End file.
